Vassenka drove the horses so smartly that they reached the marsh
too early, while it was still hot.
As they drew near this more important marsh, the chief aim of
their expedition, Levin could not help considering how he could
get rid of Vassenka and be free in his movements. Stepan
Arkadyevitch evidently had the same desire, and on his face Levin
saw the look of anxiety always present in a true sportsman when
beginning shooting, together with a certain good-humored slyness
peculiar to him.
"How shall we go? It's a splendid marsh, I see, and there are
hawks," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, pointing to two great birds
hovering over the reeds. "Where there are hawks, there is sure
to be game."
"Now, gentlemen," said Levin, pulling up his boots and examining
the lock of his gun with rather a gloomy expression, "do you see
those reeds?" He pointed to an oasis of blackish green in the
huge half-mown wet meadow that stretched along the right bank of
the river. "The marsh begins here, straight in front of us, do
you see--where it is greener? From here it runs to the right
where the horses are; there are breeding places there, and
grouse, and all round those reeds as far as that alder, and right
up to the mill. Over there, do you see, where the pools are?
That's the best place. There I once shot seventeen snipe.
We'll separate with the dogs and go in different directions, and
then meet over there at the mill."
"Well, which shall go to left and which to right?" asked Stepan
Arkadyevitch. "It's wider to the right; you two go that way and
I'll take the left," he said with apparent carelessness.
"Capital! we'll make the bigger bag! Yes, come along, come
along!" Vassenka exclaimed.
Levin could do nothing but agree, and they divided.
As soon as they entered the marsh, the two dogs began hunting
about together and made towards the green, slime-covered pool.
Levin knew Laska's method, wary and indefinite; he knew the place
too and expected a whole covey of snipe.
"Veslovsky, beside me, walk beside me!" he said in a faint voice
to his companion splashing in the water behind him. Levin could
not help feeling an interest in the direction his gun was
pointed, after that casual shot near the Kolpensky marsh.
"Oh, I won't get in your way, don't trouble about me."
But Levin could not help troubling, and recalled Kitty's words at
parting: "Mind you don't shoot one another." The dogs came
nearer and nearer, passed each other, each pursuing its own
scent. The expectation of snipe was so intense that to Levin the
squelching sound of his own heel, as he drew it up out of the
mire, seemed to be the call of a snipe, and he clutched and
pressed the lock of his gun.
"Bang! bang!" sounded almost in his ear. Vassenka had fired at a
flock of ducks which was hovering over the marsh and flying at
that moment towards the sportsmen, far out of range. Before
Levin had time to look round, there was the whir of one snipe,
another, a third, and some eight more rose one after another.
Stepan Arkadyevitch hit one at the very moment when it was
beginning its zigzag movements, and the snipe fell in a heap into
the mud. Oblonsky aimed deliberately at another, still flying
low in the reeds, and together with the report of the shot, that
snipe too fell, and it could be seen fluttering out where the
sedge had been cut, its unhurt wing showing white beneath.
Levin was not so lucky: he aimed at his first bird too low, and
missed; he aimed at it again, just as it was rising, but at that
instant another snipe flew up at his very feet, distracting him
so that he missed again.
While they were loading their guns, another snipe rose, and
Veslovsky, who had had time to load again, sent two charges of
small-shot into the water. Stepan Arkadyevitch picked up his
snipe, and with sparkling eyes looked at Levin.
"Well, now let us separate," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, and
limping on his left foot, holding his gun in readiness and
whistling to his dog, he walked off in one direction. Levin and
Veslovsky walked in the other.
It always happened with Levin that when his first shots were a
failure he got hot and out of temper, and shot badly the whole
day. So it was that day. The snipe showed themselves in
numbers. They kept flying up from just under the dogs, from
under the sportsmen's legs, and Levin might have retrieved his
ill luck. But the more he shot, the more he felt disgraced in
the eyes of Veslovsky, who kept popping away merrily and
indiscriminately, killing nothing, and not in the slightest
abashed by his ill success. Levin, in feverish haste, could not
restrain himself, got more and more out of temper, and ended by
shooting almost without a hope of hitting. Laska, indeed, seemed
to understand this. She began looking more languidly, and gazed
back at the sportsmen, as it were, with perplexity or reproach in
her eyes. Shots followed shots in rapid succession. The smoke
of the powder hung about the sportsmen, while in the great roomy
net of the game bag there were only three light little snipe.
And of these one had been killed by Veslovsky alone, and one by
both of them together. Meanwhile from the other side of the
marsh came the sound of Stepan Arkadyevitch's shots, not
frequent, but, as Levin fancied, well-directed, for almost after
each they heard "Krak, Krak, apporte!"
This excited Levin still more. The snipe were floating
continually in the air over the reeds. Their whirring wings
close to the earth, and their harsh cries high in the air, could
be heard on all sides; the snipe that had risen first and flown
up into the air, settled again before the sportsmen. Instead of
two hawks there were now dozens of them hovering with shrill
cries over the marsh.
After walking through the larger half of the marsh, Levin and
Veslovsky reached the place where the peasants' mowing-grass was
divided into long strips reaching to the reeds, marked off in one
place by the trampled grass, in another by a path mown through
it. Half of these strips had already been mown.
Though there was not so much hope of finding birds in the uncut
part as the cut part, Levin had promised Stepan Arkadyevitch to
meet him, and so he walked on with his companion through the cut
and uncut patches.
"Hi, sportsmen!" shouted one of a group of peasants, sitting on
an unharnessed cart; "come and have some lunch with us! Have a
drop of wine!"
Levin looked round.
"Come along, it's all right!" shouted a good-humored-looking
bearded peasant with a red face, showing his white teeth in a
grin, and holding up a greenish bottle that flashed in the
"Qu'est-ce qu'ils disent?" asked Veslovsky.
"They invite you to have some vodka. Most likely they've been
dividing the meadow into lots. I should have some," said Levin,
not without some guile, hoping Veslovsky would be tempted by the
vodka, and would go away to them.
"Why do they offer it?"
"Oh, they're merry-making. Really, you should join them. You
would be interested."
"Allons, c'est curieux."
"You go, you go, you'll find the way to the mill!" cried Levin,
and looking round he perceived with satisfaction that Veslovsky,
bent and stumbling with weariness, holding his gun out at arm's
length, was making his way out of the marsh towards the
"You come too!" the peasants shouted to Levin. "Never fear! You
taste our cake!"
Levin felt a strong inclination to drink a little vodka and to
eat some bread. He was exhausted, and felt it a great effort to
drag his staggering legs out of the mire, and for a minute he
hesitated. But Laska was setting. And immediately all his
weariness vanished, and he walked lightly through the swamp
towards the dog. A snipe flew up at his feet; he fired and
killed it. Laska still pointed.--"Fetch it!" Another bird flew
up close to the dog. Levin fired. But it was an unlucky day for
him; he missed it, and when he went to look for the one he had
shot, he could not find that either. He wandered all about the
reeds, but Laska did not believe he had shot it, and when he sent
her to find it, she pretended to hunt for it, but did not really.
And in the absence of Vassenka, on whom Levin threw the blame of
his failure, things went no better. There were plenty of snipe
still, but Levin made one miss after another.
The slanting rays of the sun were still hot; his clothes, soaked
through with perspiration, stuck to his body; his left boot full
of water weighed heavily on his leg and squeaked at every step;
the sweat rain in drops down his powder-grimed face, his mouth
was full of the bitter taste, his nose of the smell of powder and
stagnant water, his ears were ringing with the incessant whir of
the snipe; he could not touch the stock of his gun, it was so
hot; his heart beat with short, rapid throbs; his hands shook
with excitement, and his weary legs stumbled and staggered over
the hillocks and in the swamp, but still he walked on and still
he shot. At last, after a disgraceful miss, he flung his gun and
his hat on the ground.
"No, I must control myself," he said to himself. Picking up his
gun and his hat, he called Laska, and went out of the swamp.
When he got on to dry ground he sat down, pulled off his boot and
emptied it, then walked to the marsh, drank some stagnant-tasting
water, moistened his burning hot gun, and washed his face and
hands. Feeling refreshed, he went back to the spot where a snipe
had settled, firmly resolved to keep cool.
He tried to be calm, but it was the same again. His finger
pressed the cock before he had taken a good aim at the bird. It
got worse and worse.
He had only five birds in his game-bag when he walked out of the
marsh towards the alders where he was to rejoin Stepan
Before he caught sight of Stepan Arkadyevitch he saw his dog.
Krak darted out from behind the twisted root of an alder, black
all over with the stinking mire of the marsh, and with the air of
a conqueror sniffed at Laska. Behind Krak there came into view
in the shade of the alder tree the shapely figure of Stepan
Arkadyevitch. He came to meet him, red and perspiring, with
unbuttoned neckband, still limping in the same way.
"Well? You have been popping away!" he said, smiling
"How have you got on?" queried Levin. But there was no need to
ask, for he had already seen the full game bag.
"Oh, pretty fair."
He had fourteen birds.
"A splendid marsh! I've no doubt Veslovsky got in your way.
It's awkward too, shooting with one dog," said Stepan
Arkadyevitch, to soften his triumph.